I worked in a bar as a cocktail waitress in college, so (don't tell anyone, lol) becoming legal to go to a club was not a big deal at all. (Sufi--if you see this--I had my first Ouzo at a very young age!).
So, instead, I flashed my newly legal ID and bought the most expensive bottle of Chardonnay (my favorite) I could find and my best friend and I drank it together to celebrate.
Some friends took me out to a good local pizza joint near campus and I got a glass of wine with my meal, just because I could.
Amazingly enough, however, turning 21 did not magically erase my dislike of alcohol, so I think I took one sip and gave the rest to one of my friends!
Had five kegs, probably had around 300 people join me. The rest is a blur.
On the evening of my 21st, I went with 30-odd mates to a cheap restaurant called the Mongolian Barbeque, and then on to a club. Got home at 6am, and then left at 9am to catch a flight to New York for a debating competition at Yale University.
Got dropped out on the edge of Clark County (By the Friendly Las Vegas PD) in a drunken stupor that I have never experienced before or since. I was so drunk I couldn't lift my arms to slap the mosquitos off, and I had to quietly endure the ants because every time I tried to get them off they just bit harder.
I became religous briefly and promised God to never do it again (It took me all of about a week to do it all over again just not as bad as that night).
Anyway all in all it took about 2 years before I had the courage to go back to Vegas after the Ass whooping the cops gave me and the stern warning never to return.
I showed them though I came back and got married there.
Forgive me, TMG, but, lol--you struck me as a very single-type guy. You know, like a hard drinking, really cynical type buying some fancy kind of villa in Mexico for 'retirement' or something where you will have servants and senoritas.
Balanced on top of a telephone box, on the phone to my Gran until the cord eventually snapped and telling the policemen trying to get me down that I was going to join the Police on the Graduate Entry Scheme (I didn't) and when I did that I'd have them all fired for being so miserable.
Oddly enough no matter how much I drink I can ALWAYS remember exactly what I did, and at the time I am completely lucid and in control. It's just that at the time it seems SENSIBLE to do some of the oddest things...
I went paintballing with around 40 friends and then had a party at my house. Good times...
I studied in Bath the summer before I turned 21. When I returned to America just before my 21st Birthday, going to the bar was far from the first thing on my to do on my list. I had been enjoying delicious pints of cider for so long in England that it took some time getting used to drinking in American again. It's strange how my bar experiences in those two countried varied so greatly.
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